


we got the dreamers disease

by notthebigspoon



Category: Justin Bieber (Musician), Rock Music RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a number of years since he’s seen him in person. He was still a sweet kid then. A little puffed up over himself but easy to tame. Then time began to pass and they lost touch. It’s a pity, James thinks, because he could be lovable. He could be less universally reviled. If he hadn’t changed… if he was still that sweet baby that had a nightmare and climbed into bed with the nearest warm body.</p><p>Title taken from You Get What You Give by New Radicals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we got the dreamers disease

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose I should say that this is not the strangest thing I've ever written. (I still consider Ryan Vogelsong/Brian Kinney the weirdest.) I don't know where this came from or why, but I appreciate and love my squishy Bailey for allowing me to throw this at her.

It’s been a number of years since he’s seen him in person. He was still a sweet kid then. A little puffed up over himself but easy to tame. Then time began to pass and they lost touch. It’s a pity, James thinks, because he could be lovable. He could be less universally reviled. If he hadn’t changed… if he was still that sweet baby that had a nightmare and climbed into bed with the nearest warm body.

A few months in LA together. Justin slipping into his bed more often than not. For a very short time, in spite of a massive age difference, they were best friends. But then they wrapped up their separate records and they both went on tour. They slowly lost contact. The boy started to spiral out of control. James thought that the Great Wall picture had been as bad as it could get. Of course there would be video and tweets from a prostitute. Of course there would.

What James should do is mind his own business but he’s never been very good at that, especially not when he still (irrationally) cares about someone. He cancels all jobs indefinitely, tells his friends he has to take care of something and gets on the first available flight to Brazil. It’s not difficult to track the boy down. James has toured here before and then there’s twitter and calls to Scooter.

The first thing he does is empty the rented mansion, methodically trekking from room to room and ordering the groupies and hangers-on to leave. It’s easier than he anticipated. Maybe it’s because he’s older. Maybe it’s because he speaks enough Spanish and swears enough in English to make his threat to call the cops on the party sound credible. In ten minutes, the house is empty and all the doors and windows are locked.

Justin is where he was when James arrived, curled up on the couch fast asleep. He’s beautiful like this, doesn’t look anything like the asshole that James knows he really is. He allows himself one moment of weakness, running his hand up Justin’s arm and over his cheek and remembering the beautiful boy he was once in love with. Moment over. He grips a handful of fluffy brown hair and drags Justin off of the couch, dumping him into the floor.

The expected sputtering and swearing ensues. Justin stares in disbelief, lunges again and again. James deftly tumbles him back onto the floor a few times before growing weary of it and bringing the back of his hand across the boy’s face as hard as he can. The crack of skin on skin is deafening and James knows that Justin’s head is spinning and there are stars dancing in front of his eyes.

He uprights a tumbled chair and sits down, leans forward with his elbows on his knees. Justin is looking at him, expression numbly disbelieving. The mark won’t remain, will fade quickly enough. More’s the pity. The boy has always been beautiful but he’d be even more gorgeous all marked up. Never mind that, though. Those six months three years ago might as well have never existed.

“Do you know why I did that? Do you know why I’m here?”

“Because you’re an asshole.”

James smiles. “Close. Because you’re an asshole. And I hate to hear it said of you. But you know what I hate even more? That it’s true.”

“What would you even know about me?” Justin asks, not looking at him. “It’s been three years, you don’t know shit, you stupid old-”

_Crack! ___

__“Everyone knows.” James says softly, as if he hadn’t just slapped the boy so hard his lip split. “The boy I cared about so much three years ago, he would have been horrified to be hated… and with such valid reasoning too. What happened to you, Justin?”_ _

__James doesn’t listen. He doesn’t have to. Justin is saying the same things so many of them say. They get rich and famous before they’ve learned anything about life. Given their own way in everything and treated as if they can do no wrong. Any ill advised activities can be covered up or explained away. There is no such thing as consequences. In his own mind, Justin is untouchable._ _

__Braun is responsible for a great deal of it. There’s no doubt about that. He’s young, aids and abets Justin in all activities. Classic bro environment, everyone pushing everyone else to newer and greater heights of complete stupidity. James did some stupid shit as a kid and he shudders to think of Justin reaching the levels that Nikki did. Picturing Justin vomiting his way through an OD brings him back down to earth. He doesn’t bother slapping the kid again. He just waits for the stream of insults and excuses to taper off._ _

__“I know, at some point, you’ll remind me of what a sick bastard I am.” James says, meeting Justin’s eyes. “Maybe. I won’t deny it. A 42 year old man sleeping in the same bed with a sixteen year old boy every night, that’d look bad to anyone. Was it right? Probably not. But he was sweet, loving… I would have done anything to take care of him. To protect him from what happened to me and my friends. I still would.”_ _

__“Afraid you’ll die alone, old man?”_ _

__“No… not at all. I have friends that I can count on, anytime, day or night. Real friends that would still be there if the fame and the money stopped tomorrow. How many people have you stepped on and cast aside, Justin? I want you to think. Really think. If you didn’t have any of this, would anyone still be there?”_ _

__Justin’s forehead wrinkles, he looks defiant, but he clearly comprehends the truth in what James is saying to him. The defiance doesn’t dissipate, not that James expected it to. He’s so much older than Justin and Justin would distrust anyone else just as much. But James more so, for the mild beating he’s taken. A harsher beating would do the trick… at least be a start, anyway. But James won’t give what isn’t wanted… accepted… needed. He stands and dusts his hands off on his jeans._ _

__“Here’s the thing… I came here because I care about you. You’re going to lose everything if you keep on at this rate. Maybe not now, maybe now ten years from now, but what you’re leading will be no kind of life. You can still turn around.”_ _

__“And what? You’re going to make me?” Justin snorts. “Beat it into me?”_ _

__“If necessary. If accepted.” James shrugs, arms over his chest. “I don’t force anything on anyone. If you wouldn’t be willing to listen, willing to acknowledge that you’ve done wrong and that there are things you need to change, it wouldn’t do any good. No. I’m going to offer you a choice. Either come with me, away from all of this, and try to become a human being again… or stay here.”_ _

__“Stay here?” Justin asks incredulously. “Those are the options. Of course I’m staying here. Are you stupid?”_ _

__“No. Not stupid. Nor am I sadistic, which I’m sure is what you’ve convinced yourself I am, given the blood I’ve taken from you. No… this is me at my most masochistic.” James answers, rubbing a hand over his eyes and heading for the door. “I’m leaving for Nashville in the morning. If you change your mind tonight, I’m staying at the Hyatt. Won’t be checking out until noon.”_ _

__“That’s it? You’re just leaving? You came all this way for just that? You really are stupid.”_ _

__James shrugs as he walks out the door. “Maybe. Or maybe I just believe that if you love someone, they’re worth any time or distance. Think about what I said, Justin. Good night.”_ _

____

**************

Five minutes away from the mansion and the talk with Justin already feels like it took place years ago. There's a dull headache growing in his left temple and a mild ache in his heart. James has always been reasonably good at reading people and he knows that Justin isn’t going to show up before James leaves, won’t show up at all. A long way to go for such fruitless results. Still, he can sleep soundly knowing he tried to help Justin.

It’s different being here on his own. Last time he was with the band and sharing a room with Daren. A very very drunk Daren. The sex had been good, always is with him, but something had been missing. Seems like something always is lately. He won’t say he’s been pining for a kid and that’s why sex isn’t always satisfying. He doesn’t need Justin. It’s only that it’s never occurred for him to want to plan for the future without him.

All dreams and fantasies of the future always somehow included Justin, even when James had tried to banish him from his mind.

As he sinks into the jacuzzi, he reminds himself that it’s not the first time he’s been infatuated like this. Granted, the last time was twenty years ago but it was the same situation. He met a gorgeous sixteen year old and watched from afar as the years ravaged him. Justin is merely an old story retold, an imagined chance at getting things right. A fool’s notion.

But even so… any time and distance. Dying inside to see what someone he loves has become, feeling the bolt of pain and self loathing when he has all his affections thrown back in his face. Justin’s insults shouldn’t have hurt at any level. The bitter words of an angry child. And yet it had made James hurt so badly, the realization that his love will never be returned. He really is a pathetic old man, pining for what will never be.

It’s not the kind of thing he usually does but he’s driven to the comfort of the mini bar and endless tiny bottles of liquor. He falls into bed half naked, passes out and sleeps without dreaming. His only thought upon waking is that he wants to go home to Nashville and pretend none of this happened, pretend that he didn’t fail at one of the only things he’s ever attempted that really mattered.

By the time he checks out of the hotel and is on his way to the airport, he has three voicemails. One from Nikki and one from his ex-husband, both asking where he is and one from Scooter Braun, asking what the actual fuck he did to Justin. James frowns at that one, googles Justin’s name and sighs when there’s half a dozen articles about Justin going clubbing the night before and ending up on a drunken rampage. So there’s really no hope for him.

He returns to Nashville, resumes work as if nothing else had ever happened. He’s too old to let the world end over one disappointment. There will be others, no doubt of that. Maybe he won’t feel that same crazed level of devotion but that’s for the best. He’s an idiot when he’s like this and he’s beginning to feel that he’s made a spectacle of himself. Mercy knows that the two people who know about the trip to Brazil think so.

It’s why, when he comes home from the studio late one night and finds the house fully lit, his heart sinks down somewhere around his shoes. They are not having an intervention over this. Though, he wouldn’t put it past Jacoby and Nikki. Not in the slightest. And he can’t avoid it. He has to go in and get it over with. Maybe, if he’s lucky, their idea of an intervention will just be a big party.

What he’s actually faced with is Justin, small and pale and paranoid. He’s pacing the den, fidgeting and muttering to himself, something about darkness and not enough light. He has dark circles under his eyes, clearly hasn’t slept in days. James doesn’t ask what’s going on. He knows a bad trip when he sees one. He approaches slowly, carefully, and when Justin doesn’t appear to be inclined to violence, pulls him into a hug.

The boy shakes violently, mumbles again and again that he didn’t mean to, he didn’t mean to. James is scared, watching with fear as Justin sags into his arms and falls asleep. There’s no way of knowing if whatever it was is real or imaginary until Justin wakes up. It leaves James to struggle up to his room and carefully wrestle Justin into the bed and tuck him in. He lays down on his own side of the bed, keeps a careful distance and watches Justin sleep.

Even though there’s no way in hell it is, he can’t help but feel that this is somehow his fault. It’s ridiculous but the feeling is still there.It’s a feeling that’s always lingering around when he’s particularly self loathing, that he should protect people from themselves and if they fuck up, he missed the mark.

He’s pathetic.

**************

Justin sleeps all day. James doesn’t disturb him and he doesn’t go into the studio. Instead he stays at home with his laptop and headphones, sitting in an armchair in the corner of the bedroom, periodically stopping to make sure that Justin is still breathing. Bad trip aside, James wonders what he’s been doing lately that he’s so very tired.

Not for the first time, James’s thoughts drift twenty years back. How he’d seen Milo slowly spiral out of control. The calls in the middle of the night telling him that Scott had OD’d again. The call early in the morning telling him that Scott was gone, really gone, the doctors saying that he wouldn’t wake up. The call letting him know when the funeral would be.

The sun is sinking again when Justin begins to stir. James has opened the curtains and the room is illuminated with a red gold glow that makes Justin’s skin gleam. James licks his lips, stuffs down the sudden bolt of shame that shoots through him. He closes his computer and puts it aside, moves close and hands the boy a bottle of water.

Justin drains it with an expression of relief and desperation, giving James a pleading look when it empties. He chugs three more of the bottles before he’s satisfied, laying his head down on the pillow with a piteous moan. He doesn’t object to the hand that skims through his hair and strokes his cheek. His eyes are closed, but that doesn’t stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” Justin whispers. “I used to… I thought I was happy. Doing whatever I wanted to. But…”

“But what kiddo?”

Justin chokes on a sob. “I don’t have any friends. You were right. If it was all over tomorrow, no one would be there. No one. Even my fans hate me.”

“Wish I could tell you that isn’t true, Justin, I really do.” James says, soft and gentle. “But I don’t think this is a time for a comforting lie. You wouldn’t be here if that was what you wanted. But why _are_ you here?”

“I want things to be different.”

“So you load up on drugs?”

“I didn’t… I don’t even know how to stop, James. I want to though. I really do. I just, I need help.”

Well that’s for damn sure. James doesn’t say it out loud, doesn’t voice his anger and disappointment. If Justin wants help, came thousands of miles because he knew that James was willing to be there, then James isn’t going to disappoint him. Not a lot of people learn that it’s okay to ask for help until it’s far too late.

He starts with getting Justin up and into the shower, going through his clothes and bags while Justin is otherwise occupied. The hard drugs are flushed immediately. All prescriptions are locked in the wall safe in his office until he can find out if they’re actually needed. He locks the liquor cabinet even though he’s never done that before. He doesn’t want to take any chances. At this point, he’s expecting the worst and hoping for the best.

When Justin is clean, dry and dressed in the clothes left out for him, James steers him down to the kitchen and sits him down with another bottle of water and a plate of caprese left over from Jacoby’s visit the night before. They eat in silence. James isn’t going to push anything, he’s going to make Justin come to him. Maybe it’s pride. The old man not wanting Justin to see how much all of this means to him. God, James really is pathetic.

The tactic does end up paying off. Justin is quiet until he’s halfway through his plate, abruptly stating that he never meant to let things go as far as they did. The drugs were just to enhance the party, same as the alcohol. Everyone has an entourage. Everyone fucks a hooker once in a while. You do what you want and if people get offended, just let the publicists handle it. You’re never alone because there’s always someone being paid to be your friend.

None of it means anything. Underneath it all, they still hate you. Sometimes it’s for stupid reasons because you have the fame and the money they crave. But more often, it’s simply because you’re an asshole. You do what you want and live large, leaving so little for the rest of them. That hurts enough, he says, without looking away from the puddle of olive oil and vinegar on his plate. What hurts the most is knowing the whole world despises everything that you are… and you can’t find any flaws in their logic.

For now, James addresses none of that. Instead he clears the table and gets them both another bottle of water. He sits down across from Justin with a notepad and a pen. They’ll lay the ground rules out at the beginning. There’s no room for misunderstanding and miscommunication in a situation like this. James won’t let him fail when he wants so badly to change.

No drugs. No alcohol. No parties. No being out late. He will live by James’s schedule. He’ll work with others, be it actually going out and doing something somewhere or finding another way to help someone who has less than he does. The first time he breaks the rules, depending on the infraction, allowances might be made. The second time, though, Justin will be gone. There will be no discussion and no negotiation.

Justin agrees so quickly that James is a little worried by it. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just taps the paper and waits for Justin to sign it. His own signature goes beneath Justin’s and the paper is placed on the refrigerator and pinned into place with a magnet. It looks a bit odd, just a sheet of lined paper that really isn’t binding to anything. Justin, though, touches it as if it’s something precious. To him, maybe it is.

“What do we do now?” Justin asks, biting his lip and eying the plate of caprese. James smiles.

“If you’re still hungry, get yourself another plate. You’re welcome to whatever is in the fridge. Eat as much as you want.”

“Okay… th-thank you. But what do we do?”

James shrugs. “It’s Sunday. Usually on Sundays I catch up on my DVR and whatever movies I bought through the week. Up for a movie?”

His only answer is a small smile and a quick nod. They settle onto separate couches, Justin sifting through the pile of movies before pulling the wrapper off of Grown Ups. In his pajamas in the darkened room, cheeks puffed out as he shovel the caprese into his mouth, he looks like a little kid. He looks relaxed… they aren’t anywhere near him being anything close to better but they’ve made a start.

They watch three movies, Justin migrating closer and closer, sending James furtive looks that James doesn’t return. It’s manipulation at its finest, he knows, and James wishes he felt a little more guilty about it. But this is what Justin needs. He has everything handed to him, he needs to earn things for once, even if it’s just earning someone’s attention. James wonders if anyone would ever believe him if he said he’s doing it because he loves Justin.

A big problem is that James doesn’t know exactly _how_ he loves Justin. Does he actually love him? Is he still chasing Milo’s ghost all these years later? Is it ultimately going to end up a paternal kind of affection? And most important of all, would Justin ever be capable of returning that affection. He might not even really be interested in men, it could be a passing phase. Latching onto a so called savior.

He shows Justin to the guest room. There’s another instance of silence, an almost inaudible whisper of ‘good night’ before Justin is bolting into the room and diving under the blankets. James watches him for a long moment before trudging to his own room, plugging his phone in and a stretching out in bed. He stares at the wall and wonders what exactly Justin might be thinking on the other side of it.

This is getting ridiculous. James is acting like a damn teenage girl… worse than. Justin is here to get help, not to let himself get seduced to by a man that’s old enough to be his father. And James is a terrible person for even considering taking that kind of advantage of someone that trusts him, is relying on him.

He dreams. He’s had this dream before. A room in a building, high up. He doesn’t know how high because when he looks out of the windows, he only sees clouds. There are holes in the floor, he always watches his step. He doesn’t know what’s down there. He doesn’t want to go down there. The staircase goes into a trap door in the ceiling. He’s never been up there. He’s afraid to go. He has to come. He has to go. He can’t stay here. There’s that creeping, growing sense of unease. Urgency. He has to do something because something terrible will happen if he doesn’t. The bell rings. He’s out of time… and then he wakes up.

The sun is streaming through the open windows and the alarm clock is going off right in his ear. He reaches over, turns it off and groans. He doesn’t want to get up and go to the studio. But there’s a deadline looming at him and though he did some mixing yesterday, the band has lost some studio time. He has to make it up to them, they have to catch up.

There’s a discontented meow from his lap and he smiles down at Rocco, scratches between his ears and starts to give him a kiss. The cat stops him with a paw on his nose and looks away. James follows his line of sight. Huh. No wonder Rocco is cranky. He doesn’t like it when anyone sleeps with James and James is very much not alone right now. Justin is on the far side of the bed but he’s in the same bed none the less. There are tear stains on his cheeks and he’s hugging a stray pillow like a child would hold a stuffed animal.

Justin wakes up, those big brown eyes foggy with drowsiness and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He sits up, stutters a little before letting out a slow breath when Rocco pads across the bed and clambers into his lap. He looks grateful for the distraction, gathering the cat up to his chest.

“I’m… I’m sorry I came in without asking. I had a nightmare. Didn’t want to sleep alone. I remember… you didn’t used to mind.”

James smiles. “I don’t mind now. If you want to sleep in here, you’re welcome to.”

“Can I go to work with you?” Justin asks. “I promise I won’t get in the way. I just really don’t want to be alone today.”

“You won’t be in the way. Can’t promise Nikki and Darin won’t give you hell if they decide to show up though.”

“Hell?”

“We torture each other. It’s a sign of love… at least, I try to keep reminding myself of that. Well, go get ready and I’ll meet you downstairs. Bring something to entertain yourself. It’s going to be a long day. Have to catch up.”

Justin nods happily, springing out of the bed and all but scampering into the hall. Rocco chases after him, meowing as if he’s asking Justin to wait for him. Well that’s perfect. His cat loves Justin too. At this rate, things… well, no, James won’t think of that. He doesn’t want to imagine how things can go wrong when they’re going right.

They’re dressed and out the door in under half an hour, Justin with a backpack slung over his shoulder. A pit stop is made first for coffee and then for a massive box of donuts that he has Justin carry in. It’s a credit to the friends he has and the people he works with that they don’t ask any uncomfortable questions. Instead they mask the surprise and greet Justin cordially before going on about their business. Justin shrinks into a corner with his coffee and a couple of donuts.

For a little while, in the flurry of activity that is people preparing for the day, he forgets that Justin is even there. It’s not until he’s in his chair and setting the soundboards for the first track that he realizes it’s been at least an hour since they arrived and he hasn’t seen Justin in that space of time. He frowns and flags down the intern.

“Where did Justin go?”

Millie grins broadly. “He looked really uncomfortable so I made him a blanket nest in the corner. Haven’t heard a peep out of him since.”

James stares at her before scanning the room. Sure enough, there’s a pile of plushy blankets artfully arranged into a tent/nest. There’s a faint, flickering glow that comes through one of the thinner blankets. Probably he’s watching a movie. And no matter what he’s doing, at least he (hopefully, anyways) feels safe. James looks back at Millie with a grateful smile.

“I’m telling the studio to give you a bonus or something.”

She blushes, mumbles that it’s nothing before going on her way. For a few minutes, James pays no attention to what is going on in the sound booth. He’s looking at the blanket nest, wondering again what kind of damage he’s dealing with… and whether or not he could possibly inflict more damage himself. He hopes not. He just wants Justin to be okay again, for him to be what James knows he can be.

For the next three weeks, Justin comes with him to the studio. He disappears into the blanket nest the second they arrive and leaves only to go to the bathroom or to get a snack. It works out better that way because as much as James cares about Justin, he can’t forget about his other responsibilities, about his job. Forty five years old and he still hates it when he has to be an adult. He wonders if that’s ever going to change. He’s learned not to expect anything… nothing ever turns out quite like he hopes it will.

As if to prove him right, when, at the end of a day, he goes to stir Justin and tell him it’s time for them to go, he finds the kid curled up to Darin, fast asleep while Darin watches Fox and Crow. Darin looks up with a guilty start, flashing James a sheepish smile.

“Uh… hey. I was just gonna stop by and say hi and then I was gonna find out why you had a fort in the studio and he invited me to stay. I think it was because I had food. We had a good time.”

“I can see that…” James mutters, trying to stem down the wave of aggravation that he feels. “Wake him up, would you? I’ve got to file some paperwork, tell him to meet me outside.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, turns and stalks out of the studio, barking an order for someone to clean up the mess that has accumulated throughout the day. Normally he does it himself but he doesn’t want to look at anyone right now. Even the sight of Justin waiting at the truck, when James has finally left the corner in which he was growling and seething, isn’t a very welcome one.

Justin chatters quietly on the drive home, cheerfully telling James about Darin bringing grape soda and sandwiches to his fort. He seems pretty happy about Darin accepting his invitation to stay and watch movies. He blushes about falling asleep on Darin. James grits his teeth against the urge to scream. If Justin notices, he doesn’t say a word about it.

Dinner is the time that James uses to unwind each night, usually trying a new recipe that he saw on rerun of Good Eats. He’s still not used to having anyone but Rocco around for it. Rocco is there… perched on Justin’s lap like he does every night when they get home from the studio, purring loud enough to wake the dead. James feels foolishly jealous and he’s not even sure what he’s jealous about anymore. The kitchen television is on and tuned to the evening news. Justin speaks up abruptly.

“It’s depressing. Everywhere you look, people are hurting each other. Killing each other. For love, for money and worst of all, for no reason at all. I wonder what it is that pushes a person that far. Because I think anyone could be pushed to that point.”

“Even me?”

“Everyone.” Justin answers with a shrug. “Sometimes people… they imagine they see things that aren’t there. Or that something they see is something different from what it actually is.”

“Are you going somewhere with this?” James mutters, pushing his empty plate of chicken and rice away.

“You’re mad because I spent the day with Darin.”

“You can spend time with whoever you want to, Justin.”

“So you are mad.”

James scowls. “I’m not mad and it wouldn’t matter if I was.”

“It would to me…” Justin mumbles, swallowing hard. “I’ve… how else am I supposed to… You just keep treating me like a little kid. Even when I sleep in your bed, you won’t touch me. You barely look at me. I just want-”

“What do you want?” James asks wearily.

“I just want you to notice me.”

James wants to tell Justin that he _does_ notice him, that he’s been noticing him for weeks. For months. That he’s spent the last three years pining for Justin and simultaneously hating himself because Justin was just a kid when they met. It doesn’t matter that James never took advantage, that he never touched him, that he never even thought about touching him. The only thoughts he ever had were of that smile… and that maybe, one day, maybe Justin would smile at him again.

Maybe it shows on James’s face, or maybe it’s the audacity of youth, but Justin unceremoniously dumps Rocco out of his lap, is around the table and kissing James. He knows that James has been noticing him. James tenses against the kiss, clearly the wrong thing to do because Justin lets out a pitiful noise that’s something between heartbreak and disappointment before rushing out of the kitchen. Rocco patters after him… and James buries his face in his arms on the table.

Everything has gone so terribly wrong.


End file.
